


Sometimes the Past Echoes in the Future

by runicmagitek



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Blood, Canon Compliant, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Mid-Canon, Past Lives, Reincarnation, Sorceress/Knight Meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:19:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5677654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At one point, they made a promise to one another. What they didn't know then was that they had made that very promise countless times before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes the Past Echoes in the Future

**Author's Note:**

> This story was heavily inspired by the song Avalanche by WALK THE MOON. And for more song feels, I had Feathers by Poppy Ackroyd on repeat while editing,

He remembered this.

Who would forget an ephemeral shooting star blazing across the night sky? Or the sight of a fresh face asking for a dance? Squall couldn’t erase the impression the bold girl left on him, the one who approached him and worked magic to convince him of a single dance. Her smile glowed brighter than every star in the heavens. They barely exchanged words, yet he memorized the distinct life in her voice.

Squall couldn’t forget Rinoa, but that wasn’t the point; he _remembered_ this, for it had all happened before.

Hands clasped, eyes locked, and bodies hovering with inches between them. He never held a woman so close before. A portion of him longed to bring her fully into his body, as if she would slip and fade away like the shooting star they witnessed together.

But she did vanish. Thanked him for the dance and skittered off while fireworks boomed above. That night, Squall lied in bed and stared at his hands. The curve of her back continued to burn in his palm. He couldn’t place the familiar sting.

But he knew it all too well. They had danced before.

When they met again, Squall bit back his tongue. Every muscle tensed and dared to snap, for he wished to lash out at her. She was like a careless breeze, floating wherever she pleased on a whim and he was a formidable mountain, unable to follow. How they ever shared a night together dancing beneath stars and fireworks was a mystery to them all. The sooner the mission was over, the sooner they’d part ways and move on.

Yet the sensation lingered in his palm, crawling and radiating up his arms. This too had occurred before: standing by her side and swearing to help her. Though it was more than a hired hand assisting a rebel faction.

By the time the warmth flooded his chest, Rinoa fell unconscious and victim to the sorceress of the future. Squall loomed over her bed, a fire now consuming his mind. The one who plucked at his nerves and questioned his every move faded away. But she was _there_ , physically lying inches away, though the essence which breathed life into Rinoa no longer lit up, daring to be brighter than everything in existence. Squall longed for her laughter, her scrunched up face, her loose fists upon her hips, her mockery in regards to his intentions.

Her plea for help.

And once the inner flame licked along his forehead, it burned hotter than when he first received the scar slicing into him. His vision blurred and when he gazed upon Rinoa, he swore he saw her in a bed of flowers. Again he blinked. No flowers filled his vision - only the infirmary and its cold, sterile atmosphere.

Squall couldn’t explain what it was that compelled him to bring her to Esthar himself. Maybe it was no different from Ultimecia’s hold on Edea and now Rinoa. A single string woven into his soul and tugging at him like a puppet. Except he heard no ethereal voice echoing in his head. Nothing guided him save for his own need to aid Rinoa. In the silence throughout his travels, Squall vocalized the thoughts haunting him to maintain whatever sanity remained within. Though in time, it became apparent he was in fact talking to Rinoa in hopes that she’d respond to him.

They reached Esthar. They traveled to space. The stars didn’t shine any brighter from their vantage point, nor was Ultimecia’s influence any less powerful. The events which transpired meant nothing to Squall, so long as Rinoa was alright. It wasn’t until they were sitting on board the Ragnarok that he could breathe again - literally and figuratively.

But he also noticed the trembles and gasps from Rinoa.

She never cried. The spirited woman always held her head high. She inspired many with her rebellious heart, yet there she was, eyes glossed over and her quivering lips drawn downward.

“I don't want the future,” she whispered into him, her breath tickling his neck. “I want the present to stand still. I want to stay here with you....”

If only he had the power to grant her the single wish she ever asked for.

But she let them take her away; it was what she _wanted_. The idea of being hated and feared tore her apart and smothered the light once blazing bright within Rinoa. And Squall stood by and watched her disappear again.

The fire within Squall roared loud enough to deafen him.

He _had_ to save her. He _had_ to protect her. He _had_ to stand beside her.

It happened before and he refused to fail again.

Back when his clumsy feet tripped over her on the dance floor, he couldn’t place the sensation which sprung forth when in proximity of her. Maybe it was hormones clouding his judgment - just his luck, too - or perhaps it was leftover anxiety from the SeeD test. Had someone told him the pretty lady in ivory was going to impact not just this lifetime, but all of them, Squall would have rolled his eyes and spoken his usual words when he didn’t give a shit about the world.

But when she fell into his arms and clung onto him, Squall couldn’t picture himself going about his life any differently.

Though it wasn’t that he needed her; she also needed him. A duality that no one else could understand. Hell, even Squall couldn’t fully comprehend it. The desire possessed him and rekindled the burning fire within. It spurred him forward when he wished to collapse.

It brought him to say the very words which marked their promise.

Rinoa furrowed her brow when he spoke to her by the flower field. The words flowed through him - natural and without hesitation. Petals danced in the occasional breeze and the sun bathed the area in its warmth. It was familiar. All of it. Still he couldn’t place the feeling or where the words surfaced from.

He had said them before. Or maybe _she_ had. Squall couldn’t remember.

And then he almost forgot completely.

Rinoa’s voice echoed within the badlands which was time compression. Images warped and bent and shattered before his eyes. Memories repeated, each one distorting until he couldn’t recollect her face, her voice, her warmth.

Then she wasn’t _there_. Just a hole in his memory, their paths diverting instead of crossing. His heart pounded up into his head and suffocated him. Wherever he was - the past, the present, or the future - collapsed around him and dared to crumble his own life. The fire faded from his body while each memory fragmented and dissolved. Why he was there? Who was he searching for? Why did any of this matter?

Through the darkness, a feather floated towards him. The pure white plume didn’t belong to the shadows, but it had yet to break and die out like the rest of the world. When it met with Squall’s palm, he closed his fingers over it.

And he saw her. Barely.

And he saw past her, back to where it all started. 

 

* * *

 

The flowers shouldn’t have bloomed there. People had spoken of endless ice and snow residing high up in the mountains. It was enough to kill any living thing, including the men who ventured off unprepared. The stories of the malicious weather were accompanied by a ferocious feline guarding the cave nestled in the peak. Both were truth. The creature lied motionless on the floor now, blood matting its mane.

Though there were no stories of the flowers. Only of the monster which inhabited the cave.

The town folk had many names for the being of magic, feared by all. The titles meant little to him; none of them helped him in his task in slaying the damned thing which haunted the continent. Slaying the guardian protecting the cave was no simple feat, but the deed was done. What dwelled deep in the cave couldn’t be any harder.

A crack in the ceiling spilled light onto the flower patch. No wind or snow stormed in through the opening, yet it had howled past him and blinded him moments ago. Where he stood now was suspended outside of reality, untouched by the ferocious elements of the world. Not even he could come to comprehend it. How could he when his eyes focused on what lied ahead.

Nestled within the center of the flowerbed was a ball of feathers, white as the snow.

The feathers shifted and his grip on his sword tightened.

Wings unfurled as the creature unraveled itself. He lost count of the limbs while they stretched out to their full wingspan. Feathers took the place of skin, though the exquisite feminine face staring back at him could have passed as human. Eyes dark as the abyss pierced through his blue ones. It was enough to strike fear into him.

_“You are not afraid of me?”_

The voice sounding in his head was but an echo akin to a wind chime on a summer’s day. He didn’t bother answering.

_“You believe that I’m the root cause of everyone else’s fear, thus it is only natural to put an end to such dread. Will that solve your problems? Killing me?”_

His breath hitched in his throat and those dark eyes widened.

_“You’ve killed my guardian force. Many have dared to climb these mountains, but few have come this far. Those who have died within seconds. You, however, are the first to survive.”_

“I’m not here for your mind tricks, _beast_ ,” he called out, colder than the blizzard circulating outside... somewhere. He was in another plane now. He had to be. It was the only explanation for the surreal calmness enveloping the area.

It reared its head back. _“Is that what you think of me? Do you believe that?”_

“I believe that your kind are a curse to this land. If we wish to end this blight, then destroying the root cause is the only choice.” He pointed the tip of his blade at the creature. “You wouldn’t understand.”

_“How do you know that?”_

And he hesitated.

_“Perhaps I know more than you do. Maybe I’ve been hiding from the closed-minded folk who are too selfish to realize that all I’ve ever wanted is to help your people.”_

“How the hell could you help?”

The lips of the creature curved upward, though the smile was tainted with an eerie air despite the kindness behind the gesture. _“Come closer.”_

A limb from within its feathers extended out, the end no different from a bird’s talons. The claws curled, beckoning to him. He couldn’t tell if it was magic or his own free will which brought him past the corpse bleeding out at his feet and towards the circle of flowers. As he stepped into the light, the warmth compelled him to sheathe his blade and approach the creature.

_“You’re wounded._ ”

“I’m not dead.”

The series of chirps it made was close to a chuckle. _“Yet you continue to bleed. In time, you will die.”_

He refused to acknowledge he was injured, the adrenaline fueling him and thus numbing the agony which screamed from his bruises and muscles. Blood poured down his face and seeped through the cracks of his no longer pristine plate armor. He planned on killing the creature next, then returning to the village. So long as he stood, he could finish the deed.

But there was no denying that death was a potential outcome.

Thoughts of his fate blurred away when the light in the room blazed brighter. The creature spread its wings out again as specks of light zoomed by like embers from a flame. A soothing hum vibrated through the room and the light swirled around him. Warmth filled his entire being. He dared to close his eyes and succumb to the sensation.

Then the light faded. He breathed easier. Energy was restored to him. Upon quick inspection, he eyed not a drop of blood on his body.

_“You’re healed now.”_

Of course. The tales of magic were whispered threats woven into bedtime stories to prevent him from acting upon foolish ideas as a kid. Now that very essence helped him. Saved him, even.

“Why are you doing this?”

_“Because I need you.”_

He contemplated brandishing his blade again. “This is a trick.”

_“I don’t do this to humor myself. Had I wished for your death, I would have done so before you reached the base of the mountains.”_

His arms rested along his side and he swallowed hard. “What do you want from me?”

The face, now much closer, was far more beautiful than he imagine. It leaned in, remaining inches away from him while the serene voice chimed in his mind. _“You have bested my guardian force. You have impressed me. I could use someone like you by my side.”_

“And do what? Protect you?”

_“Yes.”_

At the realization of its request, his eyes widened. “Why?”

_“Because it is the only way for both of our kinds to come to an understanding. Your people wish for me to be dead. I wish to live without fear of death. If you could convince them I mean no harm-”_

“You’ve killed plenty before.”

_“Would you react differently if people hunted you down like sport for simply existing?”_ When he produced no answer, it continued. _“I wish for the bloodshed to end, but I fear it will not happen overnight. Perhaps over the centuries, others will change their minds and there will come a time when sorceresses can live in peace with humans.”_

“Sorceresses?”

Again it smiled. _“I take it your kind never thought to call us that?”_

“But... how am I to trust you?”

_“I healed you, did I not? I’ve been impressed with your skill and soul. You don’t sway easily, I can tell. I could use someone like you and I can reward you in kind. Please, I beg of you. Let us help one another. Let us carve a path to a brighter future.”_

He considered the offer, then raised an eyebrow. “Your kind is considered immortal, no?” It didn’t correct him. “I am but flesh and bone. You are of magic. How am I to withstand time and stay by your side?”

_“To imbue you with my own magic, of course. Even if both of us were to die, our souls would still live on. We’d be reborn again.”_

“And how, do you propose, would we find each other?”

The familiar chuckle surfaced again. _“We will. Trust me.”_ After a bout of silence, a claw stroked over his face, far softer than he expected. _“Will you be my knight?”_

He thought of the life he had back in the village. If he even wished to call it one to begin with. All he had ever known was fighting and training. Nothing but the harsh cold greeted him every morning. People expected nothing but the best from him. Yet they still kept him beyond arm’s reach. Some of the ladies tried to melt his heart, though grew tired when he never reciprocated the sentiment. He was as alone there as he was traveling up the mountain.

As alone as this creature hiding in hopes to salvage its life.

All he craved was someone to understand him, to be gentle with him, to not be intimidated by his presence. And he found it in the form of the feathery being he was destined to slay. Years and years of training, all for a single moment.

Yet when he looked into those dark eyes, he found warmth and comfort.

“Yes,” he murmured back.

The tip of the claw grazed over his forehead, pushing locks of hair out of his eyes. Quicker than anything he had witnessed before, the claw lashed across his face and overwhelmed him with pain. He reeled back screaming. When light flooded the room, his cries silenced and the agony was washed away by a phantom fire.

Blood touched his fingertips one moment and the next they were clean. When he pawed at his face, the edges of skin around the wound remained.

_“This is my mark,”_ it explained, still weaving magic. _“Whether in this lifetime or the next, it will stay with you and serve as a reminder of our pact.”_

Magic seeped out of the dead guardian force and swirled around him. He held his breath as a new sensation entwined with his being: a combination of ferocity, courage, and pride.

_“And you shall awake anew with a body of a human and the heart of a lion. We shall stand beside one another: sorceress and knight. We shall find peace with each other, then with the world. Through this promise, we can change everything.”_

The soothing voice rang through his body. The magic worked through him and created a strength he had never known before. Not even the epic stories of heroic knights told to the little ones compared to what he experienced now.

But a thought occurred to him and he looked to the sorceress with panicked eyes. “You said we would span multiple lifetimes? But... how will I find you? How will I know it’s _you_? How-”

The light used in the magic flashed and flooded the cave with white. The distant chime of the magic fluttered away, yet the inner fire lingered. He squinted and tried to peer past the light, but found nothing.

As quickly as it flashed to life, the light died and plummeted the area into near darkness. He blinked, allowing his eyes to focus. A streak of light shot across from above. When he tilted his head back, he found not the top of the rocky cave, but the night sky. Not a cloud marred the heavens as an endless meteor shower sparkled in and out of existence.

“I’ll be here.”

The voice.

He shot his eyes back down and behind him. The small circle of flowers expanded into a sea of white flora. It mirrored the sky: infinite, tremendous, and magnificent.

In the middle of it all stood a young girl, barely old enough to be married off. The ivory gown clung to her form and floated in the breeze more like water than silk. Instead of countless wings, two massive wings sprouted from her back and spread out to the wind. The same feathers replaced what hair should have been flowing from her scalp and framed the very face which entranced him to begin with.

The wind picked up and spiraled around them like a hurricane. It didn’t stop him from approaching her. “Why?”

She never flinched for the wind. “I’ll be _waiting_ here.”

Thousands of stars exploded across the sky and died out. Petals tore from their stems, stolen by the torrent of wind.

“For what?” he called out to her, praying his voice could still be heard.

With what little space remained between them, she closed the gap and reached for his face. Fingertips pressed into his lips, softer than the flowers and feathers combined.

And then absolute silence flooded the area. Not the wind or even his heart beats filled his ears.

Only her voice.

“I’ll be waiting for you, so if you come here, you’ll find me.”

She floated away from the ground and came level with his face to kiss along the scar. He gazed into her eyes and she smiled.

“I promise.”

 

* * *

 

Squall opened his eyes and found a clear, blue sky looming above him. Flower petals of all colors swirled by as the cool breeze lapped at his face. He groaned and shifted his body, wishing the ache in his neck would leave him alone.

But that served as the least of his problems when a soft gasp sounded from above.

Bringing his head to center, he found Rinoa leaning over him. He was nestled into her lap and arms, though last he recalled, she wasn’t there. He was _looking_ for her and she vanished.

Except she hadn’t. She never did.

Through the cracks of time compression, more than a single lifetime of memories greeted him. Every past life seeped through and found a way to Squall.

And then it all clicked - he _remembered_.

He remembered the one he promised to protect, for only then was he able to be at peace in the world he hated. He remembered a mark always slashed across his face, either by birth or by accident. He remembered the girl akin to an angel. He remembered shooting stars in the sky each time he found her. He remembered the need to protect her no matter what. He remembered her soothing him whenever the weight of the world collapsed upon him. He remembered the times he killed thousands to ensure her life remained intact. He remembered running away with her to protect their freedom. He remembered cutting her down himself in hopes to end the madness.

He remembered hating her. He remembered coming to love her.

And he remembered the smiling woman trying to convince him to dance with her.

Thousands of lives in a single instance. It was enough to kill a mere mortal. Thankfully for Squall, someone bestowed him with a lion’s heart eons ago.

Their eyes met. The wind played with Rinoa’s hair while tears swelled up in her eyes. Her fingers curled into his body.

“You’re alive,” she spoke with a smile.

“You found me,” Squall said. He cupped her face, grazing his thumb along her cheek. “You saved me.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks while she nuzzled into his palm. “I had to. I didn’t know what I’d do without you.”

He wanted to ask her if she saw what _he_ had witnessed. Had she known, just as he had, that maybe there was more to their connection since they met each other? Did the warmth envelop her, as well? Or perhaps she knew it was him upon first finding him on the dance floor?

Before he could bring the questions to life, Rinoa leaned in and kissed his forehead, lips brushing over his scar. He hitched his breath and waited.

When her lips trailed down and ghosted over his own, she whispered against him before easing in further. “Thought I would save _you_ again this time around.”


End file.
